Throw It In The Sea
by Arwen Lune
Summary: [Updated] The SG1 team is falling apart after a particularly stressful mission, and the members are sent on a team bonding mission. They each keep a journal... [team interaction fic. action, adventure, humour, angst - the lot]
1. Prelude and Day 1

**Summary**: The SG1 team is falling apart after a particularly stressful mission, and the members are sent on a team bonding mission. They each keep a journal... I can't think of a category unless there's something like "action/adventure/humour/drama"  
**pairings**: none, just the team being themselves. Team interaction fic.  
**Setting** is early season 2, deliberately not pinpointed and could fit elsewhere, but it fits the team dynamics best as they are early season 2.  
**Similarities** to any of my old sailing friends (or anything that happened during our travels) is honestly, purely coincidental. I love you guys. You know that, right? And be glad I left out the Sven-and-Lee filk  
**Ship** vaguely based on the STA brigs, but I make no claims to accuracy.  
**Title** based on "_Do good and throw it in the sea_." - a Palestinian Proverb

Throw It In The Sea  


* * *

PERSONAL JOURNAL OF COLONEL JACK O'NEILL  
Damn it all. We're being sent on a 'team bonding mission' because apparently our happy little SG1 family is bursting at the seams.

So hell, Carter looked ready to forgo the chain of command and just kill me last time I saw her and Daniel and I haven't communicated at anything below shouting volume since the last mission, but don't all teams go through rough patches?

Okay, so maybe most teams don't have a six-foot-four alien who completely lost it at that last shouting match between Daniel and me and actually threatened us with his staff weapon. Teal'c furious is an awesome sight.

So I thought what we needed was some time apart, sleep for a week, maybe get some fishing in, that sort of thing - but no, the sadistic bastards have thought of something 'better': we're going _sailing_.

* * *

PERSONAL JOURNAL OF DR. DANIEL JACKSON

"What you need," Mackenzie said, "is some time together in a non-military environment."

Oh yay.

Immediately had dreadful visions of a PMSing captain, a borderline (borderline? HAH!) psychotic colonel, an infuriating (apparently) and insomniac (definitely) me and a Jaffa who seems to have shaken off serenity and now raises his staff weapon whenever Jack and I even look at each other, all cooped up in one of those dreadfully 'relaxing' CenterParc holiday houses they have over in Europe.

Oh, the horror

Imagine my shock when reality turned out to be WORSE!

We're going to be on a ship. Now I quite like sailing, but cooped up on a ship with them, with NO way to avoid each other?

FOR A _TRANSATLANTIC_ CROSSING!

I hope it has a brig. And perhaps I'd better tip them to bring some straightjackets aboard too.

* * *

PERSONAL JOURNAL OF CAPTAIN DR. SAM CARTER

Right.

Let me get this straight.

Hanging over the railing puking your insides out is supposed to be a _team bonding experience_?

* * *

PERSONAL JOURNAL OF TEAL'C

We are being sent on a ship. I am pleased, though O'Neill and  
Daniel Jackson and Captain Carter are not so. At last I will see more of the Tau'ri world.

The captain of the ship came to brief us. It is what she called a brig; a square-rigged twomasted sailship. It requires rigorous manual labour to sail, such as climbing the masts to set the sails and, apparently, much hauling on ropes. We are to join them on the crossing to Portsmouth, England.

Captain Anadottir was unpleasantly surprised to see that 75 of the team most certainly does not want to go sailing. I am not sure if I sufficiently displayed my own interest.

* * *

PERSONAL JOURNAL OF DR. DANIEL JACKSON

So captain Anadottir (interesting name, Icelandic descend? She does have the looks) let General Hammond know that she was not prepared to have our team aboard. We are not motivated. No kidding!

Gen. Hammond told us in no uncertain terms that the alternative was two months dedicated to tri-daily sessions of intensive group therapy with McKenzie.

We are now motivated.

I was volunteered to call the captain to apologise for our petulant behaviour during her briefing and to ask if she was prepared to have us for the crossing after all. She was not fooled and asked what we had been threatened with that was worse than sailing. I confessed, and that made her laugh. I get the feeling we're not the first team she's dealt with.

She said she'd think about it.

* * *

PERSONAL JOURNAL OF CAPTAIN DR. SAM CARTER

We are going, then. A bunch of handbooks arrived and we are expected to study a bit before we come aboard, so we know that to set a square sail you haul on the sheets and let go of the buntlins and clewlins, unless it's the course in which case you also have to adjust the tacks, or unless it's upper topsail, topgallant or royal yard, which are moved upward along the mast by hauling on the halyards and the sheets only need adjusting.

The whole mechanism is far more technical than I'd supposed and in a way it'll be interesting to see it all work for real.

I have ordered an enormous amount of anti-motion sickness tablets.

The only one who seems pleased about the sailing is Teal'c, who actually _smiled_ when he watched the little video about the ship.

I have to say it does look interesting, but the idea of going as a team does not appeal in the slightest. The colonel and Daniel have not spoken a civil word since the last mission and I try hard to keep myself out of it. Which is NOT easy when they do it every waking moment.

The Captain seemed nice enough though, if unable to hide her shock about our little 'team'. Wonder where they found her, since she's obviously at least partially security cleared.

Colonel went right into auto-annoy mode during the briefing and made some 'subtle' comments about the navy and women drivers. Except then we found out she's not navy – though I suspect she might have been once. Or let me put it like this; she seemed to have plenty of experience dealing with the reaction she got from the Colonel. It did nothing to endear him to her.

He's probably just pissed off that we'll be civilians out there and she'll still be captain.

* * *

DAY 1

PERSONAL JOURNAL OF TEAL'C

Oh!

I watched the video and studied the booklet, but I was not prepared for _this_.

* * *

PERSONAL JOURNAL OF COLONEL JACK O'NEILL

We are in Norfolk, VA. The ship is anchored about half a mile offshore. Why? I have no idea. There's a perfectly good quayside available.

We were told to have a drink in the quayside café, but Teal'c is outside just staring at it. Okay, the ship is larger than I imagined, but for him I don't think he really understand what it would be until he first saw it. There's a tiny figure high up in the middle mast, and the binoculars show it's actually a human sitting there, painting or something.

On the flight here we all agreed that if there was no escaping this, we would make it as painless as possible. Am currently biting my tongue to stop myself saying something about the damn annoying way Daniel keeps SNIFFLING. He goes all ha-ha-ha and then DOESN'T sneeze. It drives me up the wall.

* * *

PERSONAL JOURNAL OF DR. DANIEL JACKSON

Well, truce. For now. I hope we can keep to it, because if we start fighting at sea I consider the captain perfectly capable of marooning us. She does not seem the type to suffer fools gladly.

I phoned in and she said to have a drink, the rib would be there in a moment. Wondered what a rib was until I saw it skimming over the waves toward us. Right, RIB. Rigid Inflatable Boat. Sam's looking a bit worried already. Must be terrible to get as seasick as she does.

Ah, and is it isn't the captain herself, looking a hundred times more at ease than during that briefing. Black hair back in a long braid, uniform blouse, one of those gas-capsule lifevests. Couldn't decide how old she was before, but it's definitely late forties.

Well, Teal'c has just made a friend, I think. I was a bit worried about how he would do – he tends to have a bit of trouble in social situations with people who don't know who he is. Guess you can't really blame people for thinking he doesn't like them or doesn't want to talk to them, but that _is_ who he is

He just stood there while the RIB docked, caught the line for her, tied it, gave her a half-bow in greeting and then resumed _staring _at the ship.

"Lovely, isn't she?" says the captain.

"I do not understand why one would refer to a ship as a 'she'," he answered.

"Well, sailors are a superstitious lot. We ascribe them personalities, too."

He nodded. "I understand." His eyes went back to the ship, and there was something reverent in his tone. "I have never seen anything like to it."

* * *

PERSONAL JOURNAL OF CAPTAIN DR. SAM CARTER

Finished our drinks, got _ordered _to put on floatation vests despite the fact that we all swim well – they don't kid with safety here, that's clear. There's was a waterproof locker in the boat for our bags, but we got soaked by the spray. Reminded me a bit of biking in the rain though, the way the surface sped past.   
From a distance the ship just looks impressive. From the RIB as we came up to it – no words.

Bags were hauled up onto deck and we climbed after them – not easy with the RIB and the ship moving out of sync. We met Thomas the bosun who showed us our quarters.

Hey, this looks okay. Apparently there are three watches of 16 each made up out of four teams of 4. We are team 1 of White Watch (the other watches are Red and Blue), thus we share a cabin – 4 lockers, 4 wallsockets and 4 'pipecots', which are, basically, two metal railings with a cloth slung between them, like a fixed hammock.

Thomas assured us they were comfortable. Consider us doubtful.

* * *

PERSONAL JOURNAL OF DR. DANIEL JACKSON

NO!

There is NO proper coffee on this ship. There is instant (blech!) but virtually everybody drinks tea anyway, so they're not bothered. I'm afraid I failed to act cool and poised – or even mature, really.

Captain says I can join the RIB as it sets out tomorrow morning to pick up the people who are spending the night ashore, as I've got about an hour then. She also says there is a reason there's no coffeemaker aboard, and that the cook will not spare his wrath if heavy swell sends the machine flying through the kitchen.

Good thing Sam usually carries a roll of McGyver-tape in her bag.

Met the cook – strange fellow. Scottish. The food was all good though, mushroom soup and pasta following it. Though the man who sat down to eat next to me assured us that the soup won't last once we set out. 'Too bumpy' was his explanation. He also advised always to set at the 'uphill' side of the table so you don't get your food in your lap if the ship rolls unexpectedly. I think we all looked faintly worried.

Nice guy though, Alistair. He's in our watch.

No coffee until tomorrow morning. Gah.

* * *

PERSONAL JOURNAL OF TEAL'C

We have been quartered, given a tour and ate dinner in the mess. O'Neill and Daniel Jackson have not yelled at each other, which I find pleasing.

Captain Carter wagered me twenty dollars that within four days they would break their promise.

I said it was more likely to be two.

* * *

PERSONAL JOURNAL OF COLONEL JACK O'NEILL

WHY THE FUCK CAN HE _NOT_ STOP GOING ON ABOUT _COFFEE_!

Goddamnit, I really AM trying to keep my temper here and he is NOT HELPING!

* * *

PERSONAL JOURNAL OF CAPTAIN DR. SAM CARTER

Daniel drove us all insane with his whimpers about coffee and I was THIS close to chewing him out about it when someone walked past and put a cup of black liquid in front of Daniel.

"It's _tea_," our poor deprived archaeologist/linguist sniffled.

"It's _caffeine_," the man answered. "Drink it or not, but either way stop complaining."

We later learnt that this is the first officer, Sven. Teal'c, the Colonel and I took to him instantly.

After dinner we got some talks about setting and stowing sails, were made to practise the slippery clovehitch one-handed (it's a knack) and were briefed on the safety drills around here. They're pretty thorough, and actually some of it seemed a bit excessive to us. Then again, the ship currently is just bobbing about on anchor in the lee of a wavebreaker.

We got given oilskins – really nice suits of heavy weather gear actually, and they'd even arranged an XXXL set for Teal'c. Then the harnesses, which made the Colonel—JACK, must get used to civilian—snickering about dominatrix getup. He was set decidedly straight by the very strict instructions about putting it on and adjusting it correctly, and what could happen if one failed to do so. To quote: "If you fall overboard, the chances that we can get to you before you've drowned or died of hypothermia are _extremely_ slim. The only way to make sure you make it is to be sure you do not fall overboard."

During the longer tour we got shown the bridge and it was there that we got the first hint of how things _can_ be at sea. There's the wheel on a platform, and on its midpoint is a big bolt with a turning attachment.

We _looked_ at each other, and Teal'c finally asked the question.

"For what is this device intended?"

"To clip your harness into during heavy weather, so the helmsman cannot fall away from the wheel."

Hum. Okay. That's a bit worrying. It got more so when we found similar bolts along the railing at regular intervals. Again Teal'c, asker of the questions we're all to freaked out to ask, inquired.

"Oh, the attachment points for the lifelines. If the weather gets unfriendly we rig up a system of lines you have to clip into so nobody gets washed overboard."

The horrified look we gave each other must have been clear, because Sven continued:

"Nothing like that predicted at the moment though."

Yeah. Right. SO not comforted.

* * *

PERSONAL JOURNAL OF COLONEL JACK O'NEILL

We have evening watch (8-12) and because we're anchored that does not amount to much. Drank tea on the open bridge and the 2nd officer Lee explained the navigation systems to us. Carter had a happy over the one that went blink-blink-beep and geeked with Lee. No idea what about, my brain tuned out.

Clear sky, stars came out pretty. Lee said this was nothing and that I should see during a midnight watch when we're far out. Wish I had my telescope with me; it should be pretty good without the light pollution, though I suppose impossible to focus properly from a moving ship.

Daniel has stopped going on about coffee after some very severe looks from Sven and the captain, which suggested that being put overboard was a real option. He's going ashore tomorrow morning to find a coffee machine and bets are on about how many pounds of coffee he will bring back with him.

I wondered aloud about the reason we're anchored offshore and received some vague answers. Apparently this ship only ever docks in daytime to refuel and resupply; if at all possible it anchors some way out of shore for the night. The reason for this? Apparently the captain prefers it so.

Seems a lot of work for just a 'preference'. Must fish some more

In the morning we'll be instructed on climbing the mast and undoing the gaskets (whatever that may be) so that should be interesting. Good thing I'm not afraid of heights then

We're in our bunks now, all awake except for Carter, just kind of rehashing the day. Teal'c is really enjoying himself. I'm glad, because he has been very down the last few months, ever since he last saw his son.

Haven't yelled at Daniel (wow) and it's just occurred to me that we're actually having a vaguely normal conversation. That would be the first time since THAT mission. I'd better not focus on it or I'll scare it off and it will mutate into shouting again.


	2. Day 2

Forgot to add the warning that there be swearing here… no worse than what I hear in playgrounds, but if you think it'll offend you, it probably will. 

Thanks for the feedback! It's not going to stay just 'funny' all the way through, there are some darker issues to be resolved, but I'd like to think it's never really off-colour.

_Throw It In The Sea_

**DAY 2**

* * *

PERSONAL JOURNAL OF DR. DANIEL JACKSON 

Am in the large RIB with Thomas the bosun, a small coffeemaker and 8 pounds prime ground coffee. This amount based on the estimated length of the crossing – 4 weeks. Wanted beans, but I suspect no grinder aboard. We are waiting for the last of the crew to arrive so that we can go back to the ship and set sail. I have my binoculars with me and GOD I wish I had a recorder on it, because I can see four figures slowly climbing up the main mast; the bosun, Teal'c, Sam and Jack. Jack is climbing a bit… hesitantly, to put it mildly.

Okay, three people have joined us now, two who were already aboard when we arrived yesterday and one man who was greeted by Thomas with much enthusiasm. Apparently he came with them from Europe and was not expected to return. They're all Brits here and my coffee habit is being made fun of, but everybody is very friendly.

We can see the four figures go out onto the upper topsail yard (yes, I did study the book) and undo the sail.

"Well done!" Thomas remarks. "Your tall friend will make a good topman."

I'm surprised again by the open-mindedness of these people. Anywhere else Teal'c would have drawn much attention with his appearance and manners, but he stuck with the story I suggested to him – that his emblem is a tribal marking and that he has 'not been in this country long' – and there have been no questions; he is simply 'our tall friend' and seems to be having a good time.

Perhaps it is because sailors themselves tend not to linger in the past, that they do not ask questions?

It is 10am and all the people who were expected to return have, so we're casting off in a moment to return to 'the mothership' as Thomas grins.

* * *

PERSONAL JOURNAL OF CAPTAIN DR. SAM CARTER 

Daniel returned with the RIB and… 8 pounds of coffee. Damn, I bet it'd be 10, so Teal'c wins. Interesting moment when the RIB landed alongside and someone hurried out. Moment the captain saw him she was on deck within seconds and they just walked toward each other until they collided in this, well, bear-hug, with an audible thud of life vest and oilskins connecting.

Nice to see the captain has someone she cares for after all. I had wondered if she didn't feel… alone, I guess, on this ship with its rotating crew. She is the only one who actually lives on it fulltime. She and the cat…

New man is Stephen, 40ish, obviously well know with the crew, no idea what he does around here.

* * *

PERSONAL JOURNAL OF TEAL'C 

I won the coffee wager. However, I quickly learnt I made an error in my thinking; I have won 20 dollar but there is nothing aboard on which to spend money. I have concluded that next time, I should wager about kitchen and cleaning duty.

Today we climbed aloft with the bosun to be taught how to untie and refold sails. I did not find this a difficult task but was warned that out at sea it may be more challenging. We all mastered climbing and sailhandling and the bosun was pleased.

Our 0800-1200 morning watch was taken over by the rest of our watch so that we could go aloft, and tonight from 0000 to 0400 will be our next watch. To quote from the ship's log, into which I was permitted to look:

_September 17, 9:15 AM. Captain Sula Anadottir._

_Expected time of departure from Norfolk will be noon of this day.  
Ship fully supplied with water, fuel and food; stores now contain 14 gallons of fresh milk and 14 of long-life milk and god knows how many eggs. Cook somehow decided that taking 6 deep-frozen complete pig carcasses and 4 whole cows would be a Good Idea. Don't ask me why, I only live on this ship. And where the hell did he find HAGGIS? (don't answer that)_

_All crew is now aboard or expected to return with the RIB; safety lists have been distributed and the relevant institutions informed of our planned course; safety talks held and drills executed (note to practise MOB ASAP, it's no use on anchor); lifelines, standing and running rigging and all sails and spares double-checked and repaired where necessary. As soon as all crew is aboard we are clear to depart._

_Weather grey and mild, wind force 3 from the west and a gentle 0.5 – 1 swell. We have a high coming up that should carry us for the first week or so._

I am curious now to find out what MOB means.

I asked Daniel Jackson what HAGGIS is. He indicated that the word alone made him feel unpleasant, but did not answer my question.

* * *

PERSONAL JOURNAL OF DR. DANIEL JACKSON 

Whohoo! We set out. Anchors up, motor on – and I was at the helm. Consider me utterly terrified. Captain was on the upper bridge calling out commands and I was turning the wheel in the desperate hope this would have the desired result. Thankfully Lee was standing next to me to help out, because that was quite a narrow entrance to the bay.

It's not like a car – there's about a minute of lag between what you do and what the ship does. Except sometimes it's 30 seconds and sometimes 90… Then this time I didn't even have the sails and the wind to take into account.

Sam is feeling a bit queasy, but has taken pills and is being kept busy by the bosun, who says that you don't feel sick if you don't focus on it. Or maybe that's just his excuse to set us to slave-labour.

* * *

PERSONAL JOURNAL OF CAPTAIN DR. SAM CARTER 

Ohh… hands hurt… stomach feels funny…

Remind me again why we're here?

* * *

PERSONAL JOURNAL OF COLONEL JACK O'NEILL 

Damn it, now Teal'c has us ALL worried about haggis!

Daniel did an extremely graphic description of it to our entire watch. It was well past midnight and Carter – SAM – was on the helm. Two people were on lookout and the rest was just hanging about getting to know each other, still all a bit unused to this ship and being up for watch at that hour. Teal'c posed the question what haggis was. Daniel described it for him.

Several people, despite being on Dramamine, turned green and fed fishes.

Then he gleefully described some traditional Icelandic recipes to us, since apparently the captain is of Icelandic descent. I HOPE there are no sheep heads aboard…

More soon.. promise :-) 

Cheers,  
Arwen

  



	3. Day 3

Right, I'm back. Bounced around the sea from Hull to Lisbon for 2 weeks and had an excellent time, and some more inspiration on this one. I've re-uploaded chapter 1 and 2 with some changes, mostly fairly minor. Let me know how this works for you guys.

**DAY 3**

* * *

PERSONAL JOURNAL OF DR. DANIEL JACKSON

Okay, so maybe describing Svið in that much detail was a bit much. I was just trying to get a rise out of Jack. Though I suppose I wasn't _really_ aiming for the rise of his dinner

Maybe I should apologise.

maybe when he's stopped glaring at me like he wishes for his MP5.

* * *

PERSONAL JOURNAL OF CAPTAIN DR. SAM CARTER

Slept okay but woke up seasick (_despite_ the pills!), no breakfast (the thought alone) and am now sitting along the railing writing this. Jack is a few metres to my left feeling just as miserable.

The bosun tried to get us to do something, and yesterday he was right and distraction helped us a little, but I was sick all over the deck and was excused from the work. Thankfully several other crewmembers are ill as well, or the USAF would be dreadfully embarrassed by our current state.

* * *

PERSONAL JOURNAL OF TEAL'C

Daniel Jackson explained to me what haggis is – a type of food favoured by some people in remote areas of this world. It did not sound appetising, but I will reserve judgement until I experience it.  
Today my function is 'galley slave'. At first this idea disconcerted me, but it was explained to be a play upon words; the kitchen on a ship is called galley, a word also used for an ancient type of warship, propelled by rowing slaves. I am assigned to the cook today, thus I am galley slave.

The cook speaks with an accent I have had some difficulty to understand, and listens to a man speaking on the radio who makes jokes and sings songs. I do not understand all the jokes, but was entertained by the song about 'wellies'.

I have served the crew with lunch – this is not an easy task, as the ship is rocking significantly. The captain had lunch and told us that the wind has steadied and that we will soon be setting more sail to stabilise the ship. She said that if the cook could miss me, I was welcome to help.

O'Neill and Captain Carter are ill today with the motions of the ship. Daniel Jackson is being taught the work aloft as we were yesterday, and does not appear to feel ill.

* * *

PERSONAL JOURNAL OF COLONEL JACK O'NEILL

Urgh. Not a happy camper. I blame Daniel. If he hadn't been so damn _graphic _about that recipe I bet I'd still be okay.

* * *

PERSONAL JOURNAL OF DR. DANIEL JACKSON

Ummm okay. Why is Teal'c singing Billy Connolly?

'cause the cook listened to it with him while they were peeling potatoes, of course. Interesting new exposure to earth culture

The rest of us are doing okay but Teal'c seems to be settling in as if within the Jaffa we know some strange half-British, sea-dwelling, Connolly-loving creature was just waiting to come out. (eww, icky mental image of the symbiote crawling out)

Jack is still ticked off about the recipe last night. Tried to apologise but he and Sam blamed me for making them ill – which is just silly if you ask me. Though I suppose I could hardly expect them to be rational about it while hanging over the railing puking their guts out.

I was taken aloft by Lee this morning and that was, well, terrifying I had expected it to be something like climbing high scaffolding (which I don't enjoy but I can handle it), but it felt more precarious and at the same time strangely solid. Lee all but ran up and then directed me to hand- and footholds from above, probably much amused by my various expressions of dread.

We didn't go all the way up, thankfully. Lee said I could try again when I felt more confident, but I think I'll leave it at this. I can probably work on the course yard and the lower topsail yard, and that's good enough for me.

Lunch was shepherd's pie served by Teal'c and when he had a moment to sit down we discussed the various uses of the word 'slave' in the English language. They jokingly dub 'messman of the day' as 'galleyslave' and it probably freaked him out a bit at first, but someone explained it to him and he seemed amused by it. I swear that man's sense of humour is just impossible to pin down. Didn't think he'd get Connolly, but he's humming the Wellie song now.

Must put this journal away – Thomas is calling me to 'express my artistic tendencies' as he puts it. In other words, apply paint roller, dark green metalpaint and grit to the boat deck.

* * *

PERSONAL JOURNAL OF COLONEL JACK O'NEILL

Go _away_ Daniel. No I _don't _want to see how you're walking about talking and working and joking without running to the railing to spew your guts out even once.

He came over to 'see how we were doing' and Sam chewed him out for gloating – which he denied. Yeah right. He looked pretty damn amused during that story last night! Told him so but interrupted myself to hang over the railing, which set Sam off too. Daniel fled and Sam just suddenly started _laughing._ Huge coughing, spluttering bouts of laughter. I looked at her assuming she'd finally lost it, and she gestured to us both as we leaned over the railing, choking out the words "team bonding experience!"

We must really be insane, but it was funny at the time.

* * *

PERSONAL JOURNAL OF DR. DANIEL JACKSON

We have afternoon watch but without Teal'c (messman) and Jack and Sam (still sick). I've been on lookout for two hours and now I'm just generally hanging about in a place away from all the sick people. You'd say after all my time in universities I'd be used to them, but frankly I'm a little uneasy myself and the sight, sound and smell can work inspiring.

Alistair told a long, long, involved joke about black knights, white knights and elephant ears, which I vow here never to subject my teammates to, because they'd surely toss me overboard like we nearly tossed Ali overboard.

White watch is making plans for the interwatch competition. First challenge: an egg must be taken to the A-frame of the main, and dropped. Watch that manages to keep their egg intact wins.

I'll try to consult Sam on this one. When she's feeling a bit more like herself...


	4. Day 4

**DAY 4 **

PERSONAL JOURNAL OF CAPTAIN DR. SAM CARTER

Feeling… better!

I don't know if this is because my body is finally adapting to the motion or because of the small white patch the captain stuck behind my ear last night. Suspect the latter.

Was too out of it last night to ask what it was so this morning I went to find her – ended up going to the captain's cabin. I remembered the 'privacy' bit in her briefing and was a bit hesitant to disturb her there, but Sven assured me it was okay.

She was sitting in some sort of hammock-chair with a laptop on her lap, a funny sight with the room moving and the chair hanging motionless in the middle. Posed my question and it turns out I now have a Scopoderm patch, something they don't sell over here. Apparently they only use this with people in danger of dehydration – and I know I was.

"I had hoped you might adjust on your own," the captain said, "but you showed no signs of stopping. They can make you drowsy, so if you feel anything out of sorts I want you to let an officer know immediately, allright? I don't want you aloft if you feel off."

I asked why Jack hadn't been given a patch and she smiled a little wickedly, I thought.

"His body will be able to stand it for longer, and I had rather not medicate people with Scopaderm unless they are in health risk."

Okay, I was willing to accept that. If he does not get better during the day though… Or maybe that is unfair of me, after all Jack won't die of a few days feeling ill (even though he may wish he would) and I doubt the captain is petty enough to withhold him a cure for no good reason – even if he did insult her rather unsubtly first time they met.

Feel weak as a kitten though and have spent the morning sitting in the waste of the ship with a 2-liter bottle of water and a plate full of plain toast. Daniel dropped by and apologised for being smug and annoying when I was ill, and I apologised for snapping at him, and we hugged and made up.

The thought just occurred to me that these past few days have been our most peaceful in months. Perhaps because there is so much else going on to distract us from our arguments? I know Daniel and Jack haven't worked out their problems yet, and Teal'c is keeping a wary eye on them both, and despite the over-the-railing bonding moment Jack and I aren't completely okay with each other either. However, we're actually having conversations again, and they're not even restrained-civilised but starting to become _relaxed_, especially the ones in the cabin when we're all in our cots and sleepily evaluating the day.

Daniel asked me for help with this 'drop an egg' competition and when I feel a bit better (this afternoon, I hope) we'll have to hunt around the ship for a bit and test some materials.

* * *

PERSONAL JOURNAL OF COLONEL JACK O'NEILL 

Damn it, Sam feels better and I'm still at it. Feeling slightly better now though; I can hold down water most of the time. Teal'c just brought me a glass and sat with me for a while. He 'expressed his sympathy' with me for being ill and I could tell in his own way he was trying to mend some fences between us, but I didn't handle it well. Feel bad about that now.

The man was First Prime of Aphophis, for crying out loud. A great warrior and a formidable leader. I don't what it is but in times of crisis I somehow lose all faith in his ability to handle himself and start giving him commands as if he's the greenest of airmen. Which, understandably, ticks him off just a bit. He hides it well but… I do it toward Sam and Daniel as well, and they don't get 'ticked off' they get furious, which is what led to this whole damn mess in the first place.

I don't really understand it myself, because Sam is one of the most capable 2ICs I've ever had and Daniel has improved a lot with the combat training. I know he's really worked hard.

I _know _all that.

Then why, when it comes to it, can't I act like it?

Strange how seasickness brings on self-reflection.

* * *

PERSONAL JOURNAL OF TEAL'C 

Today Captain Carter appears to be much improved. For this I am grateful; It is most frustrating to witness my teammates experiencing such an illness without being able to aid them.

I attempted to reconcile with Colonel O'Neill but he indicated that he did not appreciate my company. I shall assume he meant at that moment, and make another attempt at a later time.

The last entry in the ship's log reads thus:

_September 16; forenoon watch; second officer Lee Waterson _

We are currently 6.5 knots under sail flying our jibs, main stays'ls, tops'ls, t'gallant and royal and a full set on the fore. Current heading is 97 degrees. Wind direction 104 degrees, wind speed 16.5 knots, swell wave height 2.43m, swell wave period 13 seconds. Weather still overcast and restless but predicted to clear toward the evening..

Most of the seasick begin to recover, the first part of the interwatch competition is tomorrow and teams roam the ship in search of material for the challenge. 1st Officer will give a navigational lecture this PM. Stephen is bosun's mate once again and there is steady progress with painting and gritting the boatdeck and forecastle.

* * *

PERSONAL JOURNAL OF DR. DANIEL JACKSON 

Today I painted, greased, polished and scrubbed. Am exhausted and going to crash in my bunk. Sam said she'd wake me up for some material scouting later. Drastic measures may be required to get me out of my sleeping bag…


	5. Day 5

**DAY 5  
**  
**PERSONAL JOURNAL OF COLONEL JACK O'NEILL**

Felt better last night but stayed up past our evening watch. Being at the helm is restful but there are always people there, so I went to the foredeck, just wanting to be on my own for a while, at ease.

Except the captain was there. Freaked me out a bit, 'cause she was sitting there in the exact same spot I had planned on, as she'd been expecting me. Was ready to turn around and find another spot when she half-turned to me and gestured that it was okay to be there.

I didn't really want company, but from the looks of it captain wasn't in a talky mood either, so I found a spot and just sat for a while, taking it all in. The rush of the waves against the hull. The wind in the rigging above, the occasional flap of the triangular sail on the bow. The way Daniel still didn't want to look me in the eyes. The way the bowsprit ahead of us trailed slowly across the sky. Sam's sideways glance at me, full of anger and sadness about the way things are going.  
I leaned back and looked up along the foremast, square sails filled with moonlight against the starfilled sky. The look in Teal'c's eyes, the look that said that I was hurting my friend, but that Teal'c understood in that strange way he always seems to understand, and is waiting for me to sort myself out.

If only I _could _sort myself out. I don't know what has changed and I don't know how to fix it.

God but I sound like an idiot when I read back what I just wrote. A great big over-sentimental idiot, all dramatic like the pathetic characters in some of those books Sara would read. Give me a quiet place and a private journal to write in and I'll drown myself in self-pity.

Better than not expressing at all, that idiot MacKenzie would say. I've always been better at acting, at fixing, than at talking about stuff. Daniel even said it once – called me Mister Fix-It. I'm at my best that way. See problem, work out solution, fix things! Then go home and have a beer.

When there is no solution or things simply can't be fixed, that's where I run into myself.

"Grows on you, doesn't it" the captain said softly.

Took me a while to work out she was talking about the sails against the sky – or maybe just about sailing in general.

"Yeah, it's not as… claustrophobic… as I thought."

She chuckled a bit.

"You work god-knows-how-deep underground and you thought a ship would be claustrophobic"

Now she brought it up…

"How comes you were allowed on base in the first place? Let alone read our files"

I heard the shuffle of her coat as she shrugged.  
"Only the visitors level, and the files I read were about ye big—" against the night sky I could see how she spread her thumb and index finger apart to indicate what could barely be a paragraph. Another shrug. "Figured they were the abridged versions."

I was amused for a moment by the idea of my file without all the classified stuff. Short reading.

"But why were you allowed"

"They must have looked into the abridged version of my own file and figured they could risk it."

Oh. I ran over the possibilities that gave me and decided not to dig. She didn't have a military air to her but I was pretty sure that sailing wasn't her first career, and I was grateful enough no one aboard had ventured into 'So err, what do _you_ do?' territory yet.

I was suddenly reminded of the way this ship never stays docked at night if it can be avoided. Captain's preference.

"So what do you know about us" Had to admit I was curious.

"Twice-retired Colonel, Captain-Doctor in astrophysics, linguist-cum-archaeologist and someone who is, apparently, a tribal warrior, forming a team for covert missions, and have recently fallen out after an extremely stressful mission."

It was uncanny how right she was while not knowing more of the exact circumstances. I nodded, and we didn't say anything for a while, just sitting there in a companionable silence.

After a time she got up, stretched and made to leave.

"To bed after all" I asked. She nodded.

"I wouldn't recommend you sleep here though" with an appraising look upward – "Lee's going to want to take in some sail when the next watch comes on, there'll be lots of people here heaving on lines."

"I'll keep it in mind, thanks."

Truth be told I was getting cold, and my sleepingbag was becoming more attractive – but I didn't want to go into the cabin before everybody was asleep. I felt sure they'd been talking about me and didn't like the thought of getting in there with sudden silences as I entered.

When I finally did get to bed they were all asleep, and it was a relief, but I didn't sleep well at all.

* * *

**  
PERSONAL JOURNAL OF CAPTAIN DR. SAM CARTER**

Early breakfast and forenoon watch. Daniel and I are working on the landing tube for our egg (egg has been renamed 'Trevor' by common consent)

Ali has the helm and the captain is giving a spontaneous lecture about the finer points of navigation, but even I am not much in the mood to join in. We're still all a bit down from the way Jack is getting more and more remote. Last night he waited until we were all asleep to come to the cabin, just because he doesn't want to talk to us.

Teal'c says he needs some time, but I'm not sure if that will do any good.

* * *

**  
PERSONAL JOURNAL OF DR. DANIEL JACKSON**

Quiet day today – we had forenoon watch and then lunch, am now sitting out on the bowsprit.

Funny place to be, really. There's netting underneath and I am clipped in to a safety line, but it still feels dangerous, maybe more so than up aloft. Everything I have with me it attached to me with bits or string. Looks silly, and writing with a pen on a string is very annoying. But it's… nice out here. Quiet. I can see the whole ship, duty watch on the bridge, dayworkers painting, off-duty people sitting around talking or reading. I thought it'd be confining aboard, constantly squashed together with other people and never a moment to myself, but so far it hasn't been like that. There isn't a lot of space, but people really respect privacy and it's always possible to have a moment to yourself. Though I suppose in wet weather that would be a bit harder…

We've seen some dolphins earlier and according to Stephen we can expect whales around here, so people have been staring at the water all day.

Stephen is a London ambulance crew-member. Or was – he says he's not sure yet if he'll go back to it. He's not really clear on why he's here, though I caught the suggestion of 'burn-out' and I guess working an ambulance in London is one of the most stressful jobs about.

He came here with the ship, apparently to travel about and make his own way back, but says he missed shiplife almost as soon as he was on land, and travelled straight for Norfolk so he could sail back to the UK.

And he may not know it yet, but I think he'll go back to work. Some people have a calling and I think he's one of them, no matter how traumatic the incident was that made him need this break.

I envy him sometimes, for being the kind of person who has a calling, something completely selfless they're committed to doing because it really means something, even if it must be a heavy, dirty, stressful and at times heartbreaking job.

_I _am still motivated by finding Shau'ri. Teal'c is motivated by freeing his people of the false gods, Sam by the scientific drive of exploring, discovering, developing. What Jack finds in our work I do not know.

Perhaps, and it is a sad thought, because he doesn't have anything else.

He didn't join our usual late-night conversation and we wondered together what has changed him so of late. It was after _that_ mission, the one where things turned out well only by sheer luck and we were THIS close to being an ex-team.  
All of a sudden he changed back into that hard, cold, _brittle_ man I remember from the first mission to Abydos. Somehow… locked up inside himself, as if he closed the door but there's no way to open it from within – or there is, but he doesn't remember how to do it.

We tried to get things back to normal but he was angry, and hurtful, and there's no way to push your friends away harder than to hurt them when they're trying to help. (and I should know, I've done it often enough) And now it's us in the cabin trying to think of a way to change things and him out at night, waiting until we're all asleep so he doesn't have to talk to us.

Not that we're blameless, me least of all. He knows exactly how to hurt me and he pulled out all registers to do it, and I lashed right back, furious that my supposed _friend_ would say the things he did.

* * *

**  
PERSONAL JOURNAL OF TEAL'C**

Today we won the 'Egg-drop' contest. Our egg was named 'Trevor' and decorated with a smiling face, the reason of which I do not understand. Surely it had no reason to smile? Trevor was made to embark a device constructed by captain Carter and Daniel Jackson, and I was asked to climb up to the A-frame of the mainmast for our watch, and Captain Carter instructed me as to the right way to drop the device, and Trevor 'survived' his fall.

'Mary-Ann' and 'Nigel' – the eggs of the other watches, regrettably saw their demise in the same fall. It was explained to me that the subsequent ritual is a traditional burial rite at sea; their remains were sown into a washcloth, weighed down, and committed to the sea. The captain held a short, solemn speech in their honour.

I do not understand the reason for this ritual, and found it perplexing to find that most of the members of the crew dressed in uniform and shed tears. Trevor was also painted into a uniform in honour of his fallen brother and sister.

It is disconcerting that the crew of this ship should take the breakage of these particular eggs so serious when the cook prepares eggs each single morning. It must be some human ritual of which I do not have understanding. It is also possible that these particular eggs hold some significance of which I have no knowledge. I gave Daniel Jackson my condolences and asked him to explain the situation, but he lost composure and I hesitate to ask again, for he seemed most upset.

Could it perhaps bear a relation to the custom of Easter? I have been given to understand that this tradition gives eggs great significance. It also speaks of an egg-laying Lepus, which I find most confusing.

* * *

**  
PERSONAL JOURNAL OF DR. DANIEL JACKSON**

In a scene reminiscent of Monty Python the complete crew held a sea burial for the two eggs that did not survive the egg-drop contest. We all dressed in our crew smocks and the captain and officers stood in full uniform during the ceremony. I still do not know how Captain Anadottir managed to keep a straight face throughout the speech – which honoured the loyalty and camaraderie of the fallen, and especially their courage to volunteer for a mission of such danger – but she did.

Teal'c didn't get the joke and gave me his condolences. I had to go lock myself in a toilet until I could stop howling with laughter.

* * *

**  
PERSONAL JOURNAL OF COLONEL JACK O'NEILL**

These people are… weird. And British. Poor Teal'c didn't understand a thing of it, and quietly asked me if these particular eggs fulfilled a special role in Tau'ri society.

Tried to explain it was all a joke, and he was… well, weirded out. Daniel made him think we're all grieving for a bunch of eggs!

* * *

**  
PERSONAL JOURNAL OF DR. DANIEL JACKSON**

Apologised to Teal'c about the egg-burial thing. Now he's no longer worried about offending our feelings he seems to have come to the conclusion it was a funny situation.

* * *

  
Sorry for the delay on this one. I've written quite far ahead to sort out some issues and now I have most of it straight I'll post some more chapters soon. 

Cheers,  
Arwen


	6. Day 9

_note: wrote this a while ago, thought I might post a few chapters. Getting a bit darker from here on. Not easy to keep the tone light when they're all feeling quite unhappy..._

**DAY 9**

PERSONAL JOURNAL OF DR. DANIEL JACKSON

Three busy and overall soggy days as the weather turned grey and wet, with sudden squalls. Took the sails in and motored. We were all too busy getting dry, warm and asleep to do much more than eating, sleeping and standing watch. My coffee machine survives, though it was a close call once or twice.

Jack continues to avoid the cabin before we're all asleep. Last night he didn't sleep in the cabin at all. I tried to confront him during evening watch and it did not go well, and I feel bad – he looks grey and worn and broken. No idea where he slept.

Last time it took the entire population of Abydos rising against their Gods to shake him out of his depression. I have no idea what it will take this time.

* * *

PERSONAL JOURNAL OF CAPTAIN DR. SAM CARTER 

Great. Daniel thought he could break through this situation with Jack, but I guess the colonel just wasn't up for that kind of conversation and he did not sleep in his bunk.

Good idea this sailing thing. We board as a non-functional team and we step off the gangplank in Portsmouth as a non-_existent_ team.

Teal'c is even more quiet than usual – I know he's torn by his feelings toward Jack. They have this special bond that the military part of me understands, but the scientist in me not. It's the thing that made Jack trust him immediately that first time we were on Chulak. Some kind of male warrior bond.

He said that Jack does not want this situation either, but that he doesn't know the way back.

Men. What is so damn _hard _about opening your mouth and telling others what you feel?

* * *

PERSONAL JOURNAL OF COLONEL JACK O'NEILL 

Slept in the wardroom, eventually. I was on the foredeck but it started raining harder and I don't _quite_ feel stupid enough to be found on deck in the morning, soaked and miserable.

The wardroom is permanent crew territory but it was empty, I figured they couldn't do more than throw me out. Woke after a time to find the captain staring at me from the doorway, annoyed. She didn't say anything, but threw me a blanket. Slept a little, but dreamt of losing Charlie.

I have messed up so badly it isn't even funny.

Have been thinking about what the captain is hiding to distract myself. Fact: she has a file. Which means she's known in the system in some way or another. Fact: she was allowed into the lower visitor's level of the mountain, which is further down that most are allowed. Fact: there is definitely a certain level of obsession with safety aboard this ship. I just haven't worked out if that's normal aboard ships like these. Fact: she didn't really unwind until we were well at sea, which in a way is the same as how I couldn't sleep until I had double-checked all the doors were triple-locked after I came back from Iraq. My own fort. Like some sort of… what do they call it? Mean world syndrome or something like that. No, that's about watching too much TV. But the way you sometimes just know the world is huge and dark and dangerous and can't feel at ease until you've shut yourself off of it in your own little carefully guarded corner. I still get that sometimes after bad missions, but not nearly as bad as it used to be.

I should feel guilty about trying to dig into someone's private life when I'm glad no one is asking about mine, but I need something, some mystery to solve. I'll work this one out yet.

Am messman today. Hope they work me so hard I can sleep tonight…


	7. Day 10

**DAY 10**

PERSONAL JOURNAL OF TEAL'C

O'Neill no longer speaks with us or sleeps in the cabin. Daniel Jackson and Captain Carter are angry and sad about this – as am I. However I am unsure if they realise that O'Neill does not wish this situation any more than we do – he is simply unable to break out of his self-imposed prison.

He is my friend, but he is hurting myself and my other friends. I do not know what to do.

Today's entry in the ship's log:

_September 22, 10:05 AM. Captain Sula Anadottir._

_After a few days bad weather and gusty wind we now have a steady 97 degree breeze and progress is being made – 8.2 knots to be exact. Heading is 88 degrees, wind speed 21 knots, swell wave height 3.50m, swell wave period 17 seconds; nice long Atlantic rollers, and no more seasick people. _

_The watermaker is shaky and I regret not having it fixed in Norfolk. The crew has been ordered onto water-saving measures and we will call at the Azores for water and spare parts. It's not sure there will be spares for this type of water maker but if they are to be found on any of the islands, we will track them down. _

_If this breeze keeps I expect to arrive there around the 27th. With favourable winds it should then take another 12 days or so to reach Portsmouth. _

* * *

PERSONAL JOURNAL OF CAPTAIN DR. SAM CARTER

We're all down and hurting, and I decided there's no way we can resolve this by ourselves, so I looked in on the captain. I know there must be a reason why she did not interfere before – well she says she wasn't supposed to, since she is not a shrink and there is a whole minefield of classified hurdles once you get into unqualified counselling.

I said we don't really need counselling, we need a mediator. Someone to sit us down and dig to the bottom of this crisis. I suspect I may have lied though; Jack looks like a shade of his former self and I'm actually worried he may not be so careful about clipping in at some point. This is killing him.

Told the others about the idea and Daniel agreed it might be needed, but Teal'c didn't – he sees it as a breach of trust, and worries Jack will see it the same way. He might, I don't know. Anything must be better than this.

* * *

PERSONAL JOURNAL OF COLONEL JACK O'NEILL

It was almost a relief to see the captain climbing up to where I was. Foremast A-frame after sunset. A reasonably quiet spot to sit and be miserable. Though it was possibly a quiet spot because of my strong "piss off" vibes. Not that those work on captains… not the military kind and not the naval type either.

She climbed through the gap easy as if she's done it a thousand times – probably has – and in passing clipped my line in properly. I know I haven't been as careful as I should be about that, but she didn't comment. Just sat down opposite of me, clipped herself in, and leaned back.

I felt weird and for a moment I wanted to climb down, to avoid this conversation, but couldn't. Perhaps I didn't really want to avoid it. I didn't want to talk, and at the same time I wished someone could make sense of what was going on in my head.

"It's a shame, Colonel O'Neill, to see a good team fall apart," she said at last. I just nodded, surprised by the title.

"When started this argument? Your general said something about a particular mission?"

"Yes, except I'm not allowed to tell you about it."

She actually smiled.

"Why don't you skip the particulars and tell me as much as you're allowed to?"

Well at least that way it would be brief.

"We went in, got separated by enemy fire, I gave an order which was cheerfully ignored, and all of a sudden my entire team was in enemy hands. And they were not being treated nicely either."

She grimaced, but said nothing. It took a while before the flashback faded away and I could go on.

"They were going to die and I couldn't get to them, I could do absolutely _nothing_ to change things. I might even have preferred to die with them or when trying to free them, but they were gone and I was just… left there."

Silence again. It was weird to have someone listen in that way, I'm so used to Daniel interrupting with irrelevant details when I debrief.

"They got out, and we got home, all by sheer luck. They should have died there, and I would have gone back without them."

That last bit didn't make any sense to me either, but the scenario had rattled around in my brain for a thousand times in those 2 days I was on my own. _They'll die, and I'll be alone. _

"That was a stroke of luck, then. They all recovered?"

"Yeah. Took a while though."

She was silent again, and I could tell she was waiting for me to continue, to explain why things had gone so wrong. But I didn't _know_.

"I expect you were quite relieved about it?"

I chuckled, but my throat felt constricted and it sounded all wrong. Truth is I HAD been relieved, but also so shaken up by everything that had happened that I just couldn't really let it go. I kept dreaming about the way things should have turned out, _would_ have turned out without that incredibly lucky coincidence of a young Goa'uld in a strong host and Carter conscious at exactly the right moment.

And while I dreamt about all those other outcomes, outcomes that had been infinitely more likely, I grew angry. I sat 25 metres above sealevel opposite the captain of the ship and that thought suddenly popped into my mind. I _hadn't_ been relieved.I'd been _angry. _

I said it. It didn't seem to surprise her.

"What about?"

I suddenly burst with confusion and anger and yelled at her to stop being so damn nosy and leave my brain alone, that I couldn't trust her and couldn't trust anyone else either and that I wanted everybody to go AWAY. (though I was a bit less polite about it)

She just nodded and climbed down. It was the strangest thing, because I expected her to get into my face about it, and I was actually spoiled for a fight, for a way to get rid of all this tension. But no. I looked down after her and saw the moonlight light up the silver streaks in her hair. When I thought she was gone, she suddenly called back up.

"WHAT is it you don't trust them with? Think about that, will you?"

I have. But I'm not ready to talk about it yet.


	8. Day 11

**DAY 11**

PERSONAL JOURNAL OF COLONEL JACK O'NEILL

I did not _mean _to run into anyone. Certainly not in the foul mood I came down the mast with. But I wanted to sleep in the wardroom again and Sven was there having a beer, called me in before I could back away from the door.

He said nothing and gave me a beer as well.

"Thought it was your watch," I croaked.

"It was," he said, with a yawn. "Cap took over."

I wish these guys wouldn't be so damn NICE. Then I could feel okay about being a rude bastard to them…

PERSONAL JOURNAL OF CAPTAIN DR. SAM CARTER

Jack wasn't at our 0000-0400 watch, but we were told not to go look for him. Guess the captain has engaged in a little counselling after all. We were all a bit anxious over what the results would be. Could be a colonel who can actually talk to us, or one who is even angrier. I feel horrible for having asked the captain to do this. It could mean the end of this team, and as Daniel and Teal'c and I emotionally lean on each other we come to realise more and more that this is the only family we have, that we love each other and have no wish whatsoever to be anything other than a team.

Yeah, that's a pretty big thing to realise, but we did. Me, military girl not known as the easiest communicator amongst my gender, and Daniel, scientist but also man, and Teal'c, as uncommunicative as a man can get and startlingly astute when you expect it least.

"I would regret it very deeply should this team come to an end," he said. "I have come to care for you significantly."

Daniel and I smiled, said our versions of 'ditto' and we ended up in a strange, awkward grouphug. I could practically feel the thought buzzing between us – if only Jack was here this would be perfect.

Then, just like that, the mood changed and we broke apart and went about our things. Still nice to know I'm not the only one who can get a little anxious at the thought of the end of our team.

PERSONAL JOURNAL OF TEAL'C

This morning we had what I believe is commonly referred to as a 'bonding moment'. I have come to care deeply for my teammates, and said this, and they also expressed their worry about what is happening to out team, and I believe it is good that these things were expressed. Perhaps that is what O'Neill is unable to do – to express his fears as affection instead of as anger. Captain Carter has asked captain Anadottir to help us restore our team, and I fear O'Neill may see this as betrayal.

The wind has increased and we are currently making a record speed of 11.2 knots. The bow of the ship throws up curtains of spume each time it hits a wave, and I find the sensation exhilarating. Daniel Jackson has assisted the bosun all day in maintenance work. Perhaps he feels it is best to keep busy while we hope O'Neill will realise how to break loose from his chains.

Along with several others we gathered in the mess to clean carrots and listen to more radio by Billy Connolly. It started with multiplication tables and mirrors, and I did not understand all of it, but the cook was kind enough to explain to me.

PERSONAL JOURNAL OF DR. DANIEL JACKSON

Outside of our watches I tried to take a nap, but couldn't fall asleep and finally went to the bosun for something to do. He had me climb up the main to wrap parts of the rigging with greasy rope and then tar it. Mucky job and it felt weird just dangling there in my harness, sitting in it so I had both my hands free. Especially with all the 'rock and roll' as they call it here. We're at an amazing speed under our topsails and fore t'gallant salone.

We're all exhausted, physically and emotionally.


End file.
